Tea

THEY'VE flowers and cakes and candle-light,
  And chair by crowded chair,
And I am very sweet and kind,
  Because I do not care . . .
I think that I am hoping still
  If I am very good
And talk to these around me
  As a courteous lady should
The room will softly split across
  And roll to left and right
With all its smiling pasteboard folks
  And colored things and light
And let me run into the grass
And climb a sunset hill,
And find three hours one year ago,
  When I was living still.